


Butterfly Weed

by jaeyongficfest, orphan_account



Series: More Than Yesterday, More Than Today [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, CEO Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun, Flower Vendor Taeyong, Fluff, Language of Flowers, M/M, Making Out, not reallyyy, yea they're cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 06:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21334024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaeyongficfest/pseuds/jaeyongficfest, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Butterfly Weed is a rather cheerful orange flower, but it's symbolic of something rather... rude. Taeyong isn't sure if it encompasses all that he feels for a certain rich snob who drops by the flower shop ever so often.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Series: More Than Yesterday, More Than Today [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567192
Comments: 24
Kudos: 402





	Butterfly Weed

**Author's Note:**

> Butterfly Weed symbolises 'leave me.'
> 
> Dear prompter, this lovely fic was a joy a to write. I hope it meets your expectations!

Taeyong loves his job. He loves the walk to the shop, loves the wave of scents that hit him as he enters, loves the fact that the air always smells sweet.

Today’s no different; he greets Mrs. Han politely, happily, as he’s always done, and hops over the counter. It’s smooth wood, keeping with the aesthetic of the entire shop. Mrs. Han tends to scold him for being so hyperactive in the mornings, but she’d given up recently as her words were having no effect.

“How are the orchids doing, Auntie?” He asks as he puts his apron on. 

“Blooming,” She responds. “We’ve got ourselves a couple of competitive ones, though. I’m wondering if we should teach them a lesson.”

Taeyong laughs at that. Mrs. Han has this morbid way of speaking — humanising the flowers one minute and threatening their lives the next. He quite enjoys this time with her.

“When did you last check on them?”

“Just now,” She says. “Come see.”

Taeyong follows her to the back of the shop, where they’ve created their own greenhouse. He’s sure it cost a small fortune — more than he could dream of earning — but he’s never questioned it. His boss is a rather mysterious woman.

Surely, the orchid seeds they’d ordered are blooming. He can see what she means now, with the three taller, almost smug flowers that stand out.

“Have you named them?” Taeyong asks, a second after he crouches to plunge a pH sensor into the soil. It was another one of her quirky traits — naming flowers that stood out (literally and metaphorically) to her.

“Yeah, just those two, though.” She points to the tallest and second-tallest flower. “Donghyuck and Mark”

“After your neighbours?”

“Mmh.”

He wants to question why, but Mrs. Han beats him to it.

“Their cat always whines at my doorstep. It’s irritating.”

“Ah.” Taeyong nods sympathetically. “And what of that one?” He points to the third competitive flower.

“That one you can name.” She shrugs. “Maybe after that customer you hate.”

Taeyong grits his teeth at the very thought. “Maybe.”

She laughs pleasantly before patting him on the head. “I’m going now. Take care of my children.”

“Of course.” He bows in a hurry as she leaves.

The pH sensor beeps him out of his thoughts. At least he wouldn’t have to think up a name. He shoots the shorter of the three tallest orchids a withering look, and he swears it recoils. He hopes Jung Jaehyun will do the same.

* * *

Like clockwork, the shop opens at 8:30AM every morning. Like clockwork, Taeyong reaches at 8AM every morning. And, like clockwork, a nuisance enters at 9AM every morning.

Taeyong's flipping through his chapter on plant diseases when the bell over the door chimes. He attempts a lazy greeting, then checks the time.

“Good morning, how can- Oh, it's you.”

“Hello, Taeyong!” Jung Jaehyun says, brightly. As he does, every morning.

“What is it today?” Taeyong asks, out of courtesy.

“You're always so irritable, aren't you?” Jaehyun tsks.

Taeyong meets his eyes in a glare.  _ He's wearing one of his obnoxious suits again. Wait, of course he is. He's going to work. _

“Taeyong~ if you're done with your inner monologue, can you answer me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Taeyong waves an absent hand. “What do you need?”

“Something for my fiancée.”

_ Right. As always. _

“Mmh. Anything you want to say?”

Taeyong likes to do this. No matter how much he hates some of his patrons, he can never hate the flowers and their messages.

“Whatever you want, darling.”

“ _ Mister Jung _ , with all due respect,” Taeyong continues to glare. “I cannot make that decision for you.”

“Always so formal,” Jaehyun sighs dramatically. “Look, I just want to please my parents.”

“I don't need to hear your life story again-”

“You see, they just have  _ so many  _ expectations from me. Like I agreed to take over your company, but wooing your business partner's daughter? Why would you push me to such irritating lengths? And above that, you want me to land this impossible and frankly horrible deal? What do you take me for-”

“Should I just wrap some roses?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Taeyong looks at him with a long-suffering expression, then shakes his head in disgust. He works quietly, meticulously, methodically. Once the roses are wrapped in crisp white paper, he hands them over to Jaehyun.

“For your fiancée.” He teases, an air of ease in his tone.

“Yeah, I'm not paying you.”

“Jung Jaehyun!”

“So you  _ do _ know my name?”

_ Of course. It’s on your rich-kid credit card. _

Taeyong slaps a palm to his face. “Just pay up.”

“Of course, babe.” Jaehyun's demeanour changes instantly. If Taeyong were to think about it, it would be because of the many personas he's used to adapting — one for his parents, one for his colleagues (or subjects, as Taeyong thinks they'd be treated), maybe another for his fiancée.

He inhales deeply to calm himself down and rings Jaehyun up.

As always, Jaehyun pays much more than the bouquet costs. And, as usual, he dumps the change in the tip jar.

Well, maybe Taeyong doesn't _ hate _ him. He just…  _ dislikes _ him.

“So he came by, huh?”

Taeyong's head snaps up. It's Mrs. Han, standing at the door, a keen eye on the tip jar.

“How much do you think he earns?” She wonders.

“He's a CEO, so I'd expect he earns a lot.”

She hums, eyes still glued to the little tin can. “I suppose. He must really like you, though.”

Taeyong's eyes stay stuck to a random page of his textbook he'd opened in haste.  _ The chloroplasts of a plant cell contain chlorophyll, made from magnesium- _

“Look at me when I'm talking, Taeyong.”

He gulps, then meets her eyes. She's amused, evidently, and looks like she intends to torture him for longer.

“I'd make you work overtime for your behaviour, but I have a bit of a heart for you college kids. Mingyu should be here any minute — go pack up.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Taeyong diligently mutters.

“And keep it in check!”

“Yes, ma'am!”

Taeyong manages to finish tending to the growing orchids and water the newer lilacs in the back before he skips out of the shop. It's early evening; enough for it to be chilly with the sun still shining.

He likes working on Wednesdays. The cafe across the street always has a discount on baked goods after his shift is over, so it's quite convenient for him to drop by and buy a week's supply of sugary delights. He makes his way there, running across the road despite it being clear. A bell pleasantly chimes overhead as he enters.

“Taeyong!”

_ What the fuck. _

Taeyong power-walks to the cashier, adamant on ignoring that voice.

“Hey, over here!”

_ No, please don't do this to me. _

He orders, wearing a calm, collected air while panicking internally.

“Hi.” Breathless, pleasant.

“Hey,” Taeyong gulps, turning to Jung Jaehyun, who's now standing beside him.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” He says.

“Likewise,” Taeyong replies, not looking at him.

There's a thankful lull in conversation. Taeyong takes the opportunity to maneuver himself away from Jaehyun and accept his drink in peace. The five pastries he’d ordered sit snugly in a take-out box, with Jaehyun eyeing them.

“Are those all for you?”

“And what of it?” He snaps back.

“Jeez, sorry. I was just asking.” Jaehyun backs off, hands up in surrender. Taeyong glares fiercely enough to burn a hole through his shirt, his very expensive, very — dare he say it —  _ hot  _ shirt.  _ Damn, how much does that even cost? _

“Taeyong, you good?” Jaehyun waves a hand in front of his face. Taeyong blinks back, jerkily.

“You zoned out there for a sec.” He explains.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Taeyong blinks again, for good measure. “I’ll just - uh, yeah.” He moves to step out of the way.

“Would you like to sit with me?” Jaehyun blurts, a hand sheepishly brushing the back of his neck.

_ Oh, fuck no.  _ “Sure, I guess.”

He smiles, genuine and dimpled.

_ At least he’s nice to look at _ .

“So, what brings you here?” Jaehyun asks, once they’ve settled down opposite each other.

Taeyong raises an eyebrow along with his cup, pointedly taking a sip.

“Ah, yeah.” He blushes bashfully. It makes Taeyong laugh; his lips twitch before he lets go.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He takes another sip. “What’s got  _ you  _ here?”

“I’m running away from my fianceé,” Jaehyun explains. “Fun, right?”

“Very,” Taeyong drily agrees. “Why, though?”

“Don’t wanna meet her,” Jaehyun says. “It’s nothing against her, per se, it's just that we don’t really get along, so I'd rather avoid it.”

Taeyong nods.

“And it’s not like she's particularly excited about this arrangement, either. So it’ll be fine.”

“Why are you in it in the first place?”

“Haven’t you been listening, darling?”

“One more nickname out of your mouth and I’ll rip your mandible off.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen comically. It takes him a few seconds to come up with a response, and when he does, it isn’t one Taeyong was expecting.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were uncomfortable with it.” He actually sounds remorseful, and now Taeyong feels a twinge of guilt.

_ So he  _ does _ have manners.  _

“Don’t stress about it,” He assures. Then, in a moment of courage: “I don’t really mind, actually.”

As Jaehyun laughs his pleasant laugh over his cup of coffee, Taeyong forgets he has places to be. But it’s okay, Jaehyun forgets, too.

* * *

The next morning shift Taeyong has, Mrs. Han stays.

“I saw you,” She starts, while they’re tending to the orchids. “Last week, with that guy.”

“Oh?” Taeyong keeps his attention on Donghyuck and Mark, who don’t seem so tall in comparison anymore. Jaehyun’s the height of the other orchids, so that’s good.

“Mmh. You didn’t seem to hate him then.”

“I - uh, yeah, I guess.” He gulps, absentmindedly crushing soil between his fingers. “I don’t  _ hate _ him — I just dislike him.”

“I’m sure you do, Taeyong.” She says vaguely, sagely.

Taeyong doesn’t reply; opting to stare at the flowers longer. He registers her leaving the back, making her way to open the shop. He exhales, stares the flowers longer, and thinks. There are things he doesn’t want to face, so he decides not to.

_ Maybe another day. _

He’s able to power through a chapter of his textbook when it hits nine. The bell chimes, Taeyong doesn’t bother looking up.

“Hey,” Jaehyun says. He seems to be in a good mood, approaching the counter with a skip in his step.

“Hello. What does your fiancée want today?” Taeyong asks, and Jaehyun’s face falls.

_ Well done. You just killed his cat or something. _

“Anything, really.” His gaze leaves Taeyong, and his tone becomes hollow, flat.

“Okay.”

Taeyong walks to the back to check out the imported flowers they’d received recently, finding some nice tulips and buttercups.

“Listen,” He calls. Jaehyun hums. “There are some nice ones back here, but they’re expensive-”

“That isn’t a problem.”

“Of course,” Taeyong grumbles under his breath. He gently plucks some tulips out, then makes his way to the front to begin wrapping them.

“Which ones are these?” Jaehyun questions, leaning over the counter to get a good look at them.

“Tulips. Symbolic of sappy shit and romance and love and whatnot.” Taeyong explains, cutting their uneven stems.

“Ah, of course.”

“You said it; it’s what your parents want, right?” He says, placing a layer of crisp, white paper down on the working station.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun sighs. “But that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

Taeyong pauses. He  _ had  _ seen some yellow carnations, and he doubted there would ever be a better situation to use them in.

“Just a sec,” He says, hurriedly, before he sprints to the back again.

“And those are…?”

“Yellow carnations. Means rejection.”

“Oh, wow, that's harsh.” Jaehyun comments. “Didn’t know they had flowers for that.”

Taeyong hums, working on adding the carnations to the bouquet. Ironically, it looks quite attractive.

“Here,” He holds it out. “I hope she likes it.”

“You’re  _ cruel _ , Lee Taeyong.” Jaehyun says. But he’s smiling.

Taeyong shrugs. “Comes with the job description, babe.”

Jaehyun pays up, tipping magnanimously as ever, and leaves with a two-fingered salute and a smirk.

Taeyong finds he can’t concentrate on botanical procedures when a set of dimples and a pair of plump lips keep coming to his mind.

* * *

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Jaehyun starts, observing Taeyong wrap more yellow carnations. “Are you in college or something? Or this a full-time gig?”

“No, I study.” Taeyong says. He carefully adds a couple of small white flowers to the bouquet.

“Yeah?” Jaehyun leans over the counter. Taeyong looks nice like this, focused, eyes trained at the task on hand, hair falling on his face.

“Botany. I’ve always liked it,” he explains. “Though I like the more biological side of things.”

“Meaning?”

“You know, research and stuff. Plant diseases, genetic modification.” Taeyong tapes the end of the paper and adds a final touch to the bouquet.

“That’s pretty vast…”

Taeyong shrugs. “I still have a year to narrow it down. And honestly, I’m in no rush.”

“That’s nice,” Jaehyun smiles. “I was thrown into this life, I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“That’s a shame.” Taeyong meets his eyes as he hands him the bouquet. “You don’t seem  _ too _ unhappy with yourself, though. Or is that one of the many pretences you keep up?”

“You’re seeing right through me.” Jaehyun deadpans in response. “Only kind of, actually. I mean, I’m good at what I do, so I don’t even have the ‘I’m not cut-out for this’ argument on my side.”

“Again, that’s a shame.” Taeyong takes his time in ringing Jaehyun up.

“I’ve never had much opportunity to explore other options, so I don’t even know what I’m missing out on.”

“Oh, look at me, I have all the money in the world and a definite future ahead of me,” Taeyong mocks. One look at Jaehyun’s unamused face makes him reconsider his words. “Not that you can’t have your own problems, though. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Jaehyun dismisses.

“It’s fine if it isn’t, too. I understand that I could have offended you.”

“Really, Taeyong, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Jaehyun gives him a smile, but he isn't convinced.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“I told you-”

“Have coffee with me tomorrow?”

Jaehyun flushes. The tips of his ears turn a beautiful pink, and it’s very adorable, in Taeyong’s humble opinion.

“Yeah… I’d like that.” He says, softly, as he pays up.

“See you tomorrow, then. Five? Same place as last time?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Jaehyun tips and leaves. Taeyong watches him go, fondly.

* * *

Jaehyun almost doesn’t make it to their coffee date. When he  _ does  _ show up, though, it’s twenty-minutes late with a bouquet of roses.

“Hey, hello.” He flops down opposite Taeyong, who’s sipping on his coffee with a critical expression on his face.

“Sorry, about that,” He’s still catching his breath; “Got caught up with Sooyoung - parents - argument.” He vaguely gestures. He then seems to remember the roses, and hands them over sheepishly.

Taeyong accepts them — his isn’t  _ that _ cruel — but keeps his prim expression.

“What happened?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess it’s important.” Jaehyun starts. He’s a bit all over the place; hair a floppy mess, collar ruffled, tie undone. “So, Sooyoung and I were at work, right? Which is a common enough occurrence, I mean, obviously, because we work together and stuff-”

“Who’s Sooyoung?”

“My fiancée. Wait, I’m not sure anymore,” Jaehyun wonders. “Right, anyway. So, yeah, we were at work and my father showed up, all high and might and shit, like he usually is. And he was all like, hey, Jaehyun, when are you planning to announce the engagement? Completely out of the blue. And I was all like, hey, dad, not anytime soon. Which is pretty reasonable, right?”

“Right.” Taeyong agrees, slightly hesitant.

“And Sooyoung also agreed with me — she said she’d rather wait it out. The both of us were forced into this anyway, the least they could give us was some time and space. But  _ then _ , her mother had the audacity to show up. And like, no offence, but she isn’t the nicest person. She can be really fucking rude when she wants. Which was exactly what happened today. Like, it’s not Sooyoung’s fault we don’t get along, like, romantically, right? It’s the both of us.”

“Of course.”

“Yeah, so that’s where her mother doesn’t get shit. It’s really fucking irritating because Sooyoung’s my best friend, and I hate seeing her put down because of me. Which is another problem in itself, because my fucking inferiority complex comes out in situations like this and it haunts every second thought of mine.” He isn’t looking at Taeyong anymore, eyes darting from the flowers to the wall opposite them to the table.

“And now that I think about it, it’s the problem! If I could think straight we wouldn’t have ended up in this situation and Sooyoung could be with someone she actually likes. And just maybe she could work somewhere she’s appreciated and not put down. Seriously, this is all my-”

“Jaehyun, hey, calm down.” Taeyong reaches for his hand. Jaehyun’s shaking.

“Deep breaths, Jaehyun.” He says, low and soft, soothing. Jaehyun nods, shakily, and holds his hand tighter.

It takes a while for him to calm down. He doesn’t talk, just inhales and exhales, and Taeyong holds his hand through it.

“Sorry,” he says, eventually.

“It’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

Jaehyun sighs. “Long story short, I broke off my engagement, cost my ex-fiancee her job, and disappointed my parents to the moon.”

“And yet you got me flowers.”

Jaehyun lets out a laugh, it’s hollow, but it’s something. “Yeah, and yet I got you flowers.”

They sit in silence for a while. It isn’t the stifling kind, but it isn’t very comfortable either.

“Jaehyun, do you wanna go somewhere?”

“Huh?”

Taeyong stands abruptly and tugs on Jaehyun's wrist. “Come with me.”

Jaehyun hopes he doesn't regret this.

* * *

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ fuck. _ I can’t believe I let you do this!”

“Oh, come  _ on _ , Jaehyun.” Taeyong drags Jaehyun, still by the wrist, as they make their way towards a rollercoaster. “It’ll be fun!”

“There’s no fun in a deathtrap!” He insists, but it’s weak. Taeyong has a way with words.

“It’s going to be fine,  _ Jaehyunnie _ .”

“Can’t argue with that, can I?” Jaehyun says drily.

And so they proceed. Waiting in line is ten minutes in itself — “Seriously, people come to amusement parks on weekdays?” — and by the time they reach the front, Jaehyun’s having second thoughts.

“Have you ever been on a rollercoaster?” Taeyong inquires, once they’ve taken their seats.

“Don’t laugh-”

“Okay, I’ve got my answer.” Taeyong has the audacity to laugh.

“I hate you, Lee Taeyong.” Jaehyun grumbles.

The machine vibrates under them, making Jaehyun’s heartbeat skyrocket. They ascend. He takes a deep breath, reminds himself why he’s doing this —  _ Can’t pass up an opportunity to spend time with Taeyong _ — and holds on for dear life. The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes is Taeyong taking his hand.

It’s all okay until they reach the top. Jaehyun actually gains some confidence and dares to open his eyes, which is, in hindsight, not the best decision he’s made. The drop seems to span for metres upon metres. He can’t really take this.

“Oh, fuck.”

Later, Jaehyun would argue that he didn’t scream for his life. And Taeyong would refute that statement, because he heard everything, and he’s pretty sure Jaehyun scarred some eleven-year-olds sitting behind them with the amount of expletives that left his mouth. (Seriously, what were these kids doing out of school?)

He gets off the ride in a daze, Taeyong’s hold on him pulling him forward.

“So? Any good?”

Jaehyun acts like he has to think it over; which is very, very endearing, because Taeyong falls for it and begins to desperately claw at Jaehyun's sleeve.

“Can we go again?”

“I knew I could trust my taste in men,” He sighs happily, before skipping towards the line again. Jaehyun follows with a smile on his face.

* * *

They spend the evening in the amusement park, there's some kind of a festival going on. It’s a great help to take things off Jaehyun’s mind, but it also adds a few. They aren’t unpleasant thoughts, though. Not by a long stretch.

Taeyong’s just won one of those many games, knocking over a pyramid of cans or something, and he picks a little black crown for himself as a prize. It settles snugly atop his head, fluffing the black strands. Jaehyun can’t take his eyes off him.

A hand waves in front of his face.

“Jaehyunnie, hey, are you listening to me?”

“Huh?”

“I said, do you want one of those?”

Jaehyun looks over to where Taeyong’s gesturing, a stall with a huge selection of plushies.

“Uh, no, not particularly.” Jaehyun replies. At Taeyong’s slightly pained, slightly crestfallen look, he amends himself. “I mean, yeah, I’d love one!”

It comes out quite forced, but Taeyong takes it. “I’m winning you one!”

“Yeah, you do that,” Jaehyun says, dreamily.  _ Wait, where’s he going? _

He hurries to catch up to Taeyong who’s very happily paying the vendor and picking up a set of disks. Jaehyun peers into the stall. It’s the infernal ring-toss game, and he’s pretty sure it’s rigged. Sighing, he watches as Taeyong exhausts all three of his chances without winning once.

“Here, give me,” Jaehyun picks the rings up, takes a stance, and tries his luck. He’s surprisingly good at this; managing to get rings around a cylindrical object.

At the end of it, the vendor reluctantly hands them a shark plushie, the one Taeyong liked, and shoos them away. They laugh it off.

Jaehyun finds an ice-cream stall as they're wandering around, displaying a giant hoarding advertising chocolate ice-cream.

“Hey, Taeyong,” He says, taking Taeyong’s hand to capture his attention.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want ice-cream?” Jaehyun asks. Against the darkness of the sky and the reflection of various lights, he looks positively surreal.

“I-” Taeyong’s breath is caught in his throat. He can’t process much apart from the fall of Jaehyun’s hair over his face, the curious tilt to his head, the clarity, purity in his eyes. Emotions are simple. Understandable. Taeyong knows, in that moment, what he feels for Jaehyun is simply… pure, unadulterated, untainted.

“Yongie?” Jaehyun asks once again, concern seeping into his words.

“Yeah, let’s have ice-cream,” Taeyong says, smiles.

When he starts walking, he’s held back by Jaehyun’s grip on his hand. He turns back.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong breathes. “I’m great, Jaehyunnie. Top of the world.” He laughs. It comes out hysterical, slightly manic.

“Taeyongie, what’s wrong?” Jaehyun pulls him closer by their joint hands, spreading oxytocin through his body.

Taeyong smiles wider. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Maybe Taeyong wants to take him home, have him pin him up against his bed, kiss him senseless, then kiss him rough until he’s gasping his name.

But he won’t say these things now, not when they’ve found themselves a pseudo-retro ice-cream parlour that serves a rather interesting, rather alcoholic selection. Taeyong didn’t know those even existed.

* * *

“You know,” A huff. “Didn’t expect this from you.”

“Are you always so chatty?” Jaehyun asks, slightly annoyed.

“Hmm,  _ ah _ ,” Taeyong’s eyes rolls back. “No, not always.”

Jaehyun continues his handiwork, though it doesn’t turn out as good as he’d like it to. He presses his tongue flat against Taeyong’s neck, going down, down, down to his clavicle.

“A little to the right-”

“Please, for the love of god, shut up.”

“Is my voice that much of a turn-off?”

_ Quite the contrary, actually. _

Jaehyun moves upwards. He tilts Taeyong’s head back to expose his neck and starts a trail of kisses upwards from his jaw to his lips. Taeyong pulls him down with an arm over his shoulder, making their lips clash.

Jaehyun kisses like he means it, and Taeyong takes like he means it, too. Except he wants more, and Jaehyun’s being a bit slow.

There’s an easy way out of this; Taeyong parts his lips, slowly, expertly, and welcomes Jaehyun’s tongue in. The hand he had over his shoulder now grips his shirt tightly, and Taeyong tugs, hard.

“What?” Jaehyun pulls back, lips plump.

“Take it off,” Taeyong pouts.

Jaehyun sighs, still heaving, and meticulously unbuttons his shirt. Taeyong’s torn between helping him out and savouring the way Jaehyun’s teasing him. Bit by bit, Jaehyun exposes his skin — it’s so  _ white _ — and muscle. Finally, when he tosses the garment away, Taeyong pulls him back down and reconnects their lips. This time, his hands span over hot skin.

Jaehyun explores his mouth, running his tongue behind Taeyong’s mandibular teeth, and he whines, high-pitched and embarrassingly erotic.

“Got you,” Jaehyun says into his mouth. Taeyong takes it as a challenge.

He sits up, pushing Jaehyun off him. He looks confused, wonders if he’s done something wrong, but Taeyong takes him by the neck again. He flips their positions, pins Jaehyun up against the headboard, and kisses him rough.

Jaehyun’s hands find their way under Taeyong’s t-shirt, his skin supple and inviting. It’s warm to touch, and his exploration makes Taeyong shiver. Though no matter how delightful the feeling is, Taeyong won’t back down. In fact, he pushes harder, encourages Jaehyun’s mouth open.

It’s less obvious with Jaehyun; what he likes and what he loves. For example, when Taeyong licks the corners of his mouth, he lets him. When Taeyong runs his tongue along his lower lip, Jaehyun’s hands around his waist tighten and his mouth goes lax. It’s like a formula, and Taeyong figures him out easily.

He still can’t find it, though. Whatever it is that makes Jaehyun’s toes curl. Jaehyun isn’t one to give in easily, and neither is he one to refuse competition. Regardless, Taeyong’s enjoying himself, and he won’t get worked up on this. Or, well, maybe it puts him off a little — not enough for him to stop, God no — but enough for Jaehyun to pull back.

“Something wrong?” He asks, squeezing Taeyong’s back in comforting gesture.

Taeyong shakes his head, too breathless to respond. He shifts on his legs, stradling Jaehyun more comfortably, before he leans back in. He wants to pay Jaehyun back for all the marks he’ll have to cover up tomorrow, but he has something more important to decipher first.

Continuing his quest, Taeyong languidly kisses into Jaehyun’s mouth. He sets a slow pace, takes his time. Jaehyun reciprocates, letting Taeyong take charge. He complies when Taeyong tilts his head to the side, complies when Taeyong coaxes more of his mouth open.

He’s about to give up, concluding Jaehyun has impressive self-restraint. As he slowly, deliberately, pulls back, he catches onto Jaehyun’s lower lip. The hands over his back quiver, almost imperceptibly. Taking a chance, Taeyong gently sinks his teeth into the soft flesh.

That does the job. Taeyong smirks into the side of Jaehyun’s face, kisses up to his ear, and whispers, “Got you.”

They’re both breathless now, making for a perfect picture of contentment. Jaehyun hadn’t expected this when Taeyong asked him to come home with him, slightly apprehensive and very excited.

Or maybe he had, by the way Taeyong didn’t let go of his hand the whole time whey were walking back, the way they pressed up against each other in the relatively empty train compartment, the way Jaehyun was bold enough to drape an arm over his waist as they made their way to Taeyong’s apartment.

“Jaehyunnie,” Taeyong says, quietly.

“Yeah?” Jaehyun’s voice comes out raspy.

“Stay the night?” He asks, tentative.

He’s completely uninhibited, open, vulnerable, tired.

Jaehyun doesn’t have the heart to deny him, doesn’t want to.

“Of course.” He smiles. Taeyong smiles back, and comfortably tucks himself under Jaehyun’s jaw.

“You can deal with your problems in the morning, now,” He says, whispers near Jaehyun’s heart. Calm, soothing, loving.

_ Funny, _ Jaehyun thinks.  _ I’d completely forgotten about them. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the prompt, and thank you to the mods for organising this fic fest. I'd love to know what you all think in the comments!


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